Winter Snow
by tansypool
Summary: Booth takes the plunge. Brennan acts like a somewhat mute school girl.


**Author's note:** I wrote this around early 2010 and only just dug it up from my hard drive. In an attempt to make myself write more regularly, I think that publishing and seeing reactions helps. Since writing this, I've gone off Bones a bit – I blame season six – but I am trying to maintain faith that the goodness we love shall return. As I haven't been so motivated when it comes to Bones, this is pretty much as it was when I opened it, bar a few slight changes. I hope it's not too out of character.

Takes place in any stage of canon without a significant other.

**Disclaimer:** Mine? I wish. If I owned it, there would be more snow, more British and Aussie accents (yes, there's a difference) and more shirtless Booth. And less Hannah. And more consistency. And less caricaturing of characters. I do own a Dancing Phalanges T-shirt.

* * *

Dr Temperance Brennan was known for her commitment to her job. Many people she had worked with over the years noted that she was nearly always the first to arrive and the last to leave work. She would not skip work unless she had been explicitly told by a doctor that she was physically unable to work, and sometimes she would still need to be physically forced not to leave the house.

This day was different. Between the weather and the lack of recent dead bodies, Brennan had found herself wiling away the winter by identifying remains in Limbo, impatient to leave, for a reason beyond what she could fathom. With so few people spending time outdoors due to the unseasonably cold weather, there were no people to find recent murder victims, meaning that she had far more time to devote to the long-dead.

There was another thing affecting her somewhat out-of-character demeanour. With the winter-induced lack of dead bodies, there was no reason for Special Agent Seeley Booth to come to the Jeffersonian. _He's just my partner,_ she would repeat to herself when she felt that pang of a feeling unfamiliar to her. _He has no need to be here._ Yet she could not deny that anxious feeling she had.

Footsteps coming down the steps into Limbo distracted Brennan from the set of remains she was examining. She looked up from the skeleton to see Angela Montenegro leaning over the rail form the bottom of the staircase. "Hey, Ange."

Angela took her friend's greeting as an invitation to come over and talk to her friend face to face rather than from across the room. "Hey, sweetie," she smiled as she walked across the room. "How are you going with this one?"

Brennan stood upright and leaned back slightly in order to stretch her back. "The victim is male, about twenty-five years old, Caucasian," she recited after standing up straight. "Preliminary cause of death was a single gunshot to the frontal bone, which exited through the parietal bone causing it to shatter." She focussed on the skull, and continued. "I haven't been able to examine anything aside from the skull more than briefly, so I will be examining that next to see if there is anything I can get from his remains."

Looking quizzically at her friend, Angela asked: "What time did you begin examining this one?"

"About ten thirty."

"And what time is it now?"

"You can check that too, can't-" Brennan frowned slightly. "Oh. It's one thirty."

"And what have you been doing for those three hours?"

"A preliminary examination and skull reconstruction."

"And have you had a break?"

"No, not yet, I haven't needed to."

Angela glared at her friend. "And do you think you should break for lunch?"

"No, these remains need to be identified. I'm not hungry, anyway." She leant down to continue examining the bones laid out in front of her.

"You need to eat. Oh, and Booth rang me before." Brennan looked up instantly at the mention of her partner's name. Angela tried to hide her grin. "He said something about you not answering your phone."

Brennan straightened up and pulled off her gloves in order to check her phone. "Three missed calls and two messages, all from Booth." She attempted to feign disinterest but could not keep the skipped beat of her heart from her voice. Glancing down at her phone to check the messages, she silently hoped that her friend hadn't picked up on the slight raise in pitch of her voice.

"Ring him, see what he wants," Angela suggested, trying to keep the hope from her voice that her friend would realise what she so vehemently denied. She was almost surprised that Brennan was so easily convinced. Then again, it was Booth and Brennan she was talking about.

Brennan had already dialled the number, and was holding her phone up to her ear while it rang. Angela heard it connect.

"Hey, Booth, it's Brennan."

Angela strained her ears to hear what Booth was saying at the other end of the line.

"_Hey, Bones, I see you've finally decided to ring back._"

"Yeah, Ange came down to bone storage and said that you were trying to ring me, and ended up ringing her as I wasn't answering my phone."

"_So, um, do you want to meet up for lunch? I've gotten caught up on my paperwork so I could be there in... half an hour?_"

Brennan tried to hide a smile that Angela noticed and nearly squealed at. "Okay, that sounds good. I'll see you then, Booth."

"_See you, Bones._"

Brennan closed her phone and looked up at Angela. "Happy?"

Angela grinned. "Enjoy!" she beamed, and turned around to leave a smiling forensic anthropologist in peace.

* * *

"Hey, Bones!"

Brennan looked up from her computer, where she was checking her emails in the five minutes between being ready to leave and Booth's arrival. He had arrived precisely in the half hour promised. "Hey, Booth!" she stood up and the pair hugged quickly.

"It's been a while."

"It's been four days."

"It feels longer."

Brennan quickly picked up her bag and jacket, and fell in line with her partner. The pair quickly walked out to where Booth had parked his SUV, not talking, but just enjoying being in the company of each other.

Booth opened the passenger side door, and held it open for his partner. "M'lady," he said in a mockingly pompous accent.

Brennan went to start her rant about outdated notions of chivalry, but bit it back in favour of a soft "Thankyou."

Booth merely smiled and climbed in his own seat.

Brennan pretended to stare out of the passenger window, but somehow found herself unable to keep from sneaking glances at her partner. His eyes were focussed on the road, and despite the fact that he appeared to be trying to keep a neutral expression, there were definite signs of a smile he was trying to hide. She couldn't help but smile at him.

Although they had not seen each other for four days, Booth and Brennan maintained a comfortable silence during the car trip. It was only broken as they pulled up outside the diner.

"It doesn't look too busy."

"It's better quieter."

After Booth parked the car, they quickly entered the diner to avoid the cold air outside. Brennan looked up at the sky. "I think it's going to snow."

Booth followed her gaze skyward. "It certainly looks like it."

The diner was nearly deserted. Neither of them were particularly worried, as they both needed a break. They took their usual seats and ordered quickly. Apple pie and coffee for Booth, a salad and black tea for Brennan.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Booth asked: "How can you eat a salad when it's thirty-five degrees outside?"

Brennan shrugged. "I'm not really hungry." All she could feel was an odd sensation in her stomach, which she had heard be referred to as 'butterflies.' It was an odd colloquialism, which she did not really understand. One could not have butterflies in their stomach and expect them to survive, let alone be alive enough to flutter. Lack of logic aside, it was a metaphor that she all of a sudden felt was quite apt.

Booth looked up at her, surprised at how quiet she was being - normally, he couldn't shut her up. He gently placed his hands over hers, which she had placed in front of her and was holding tightly together. She looked up at him, eyes wide at what felt to her to be a rather intimate gesture. The feeling of butterflies began again, and rather than pull away, she moved her hand in order to hold his. Though a little uneasy, they both felt that it was something they ought to be doing.

No words were spoken. None were needed. After five years of avoiding this sort of contact, they both felt... _something_. Brennan could feel Booth's soft brown gaze connecting with her own, and something within her caused a tingle to run down her spine form both the touch and the eye contact.

"Who ordered the coffee?" The waitress interrupted, causing the partners to jump apart. She cautiously looked from Booth's calm gaze to Brennan's slightly stunned one, and placed the coffee on the table without another word. _That was awkward._ She promised herself that she would not interrupt next time.

Back at the table, Brennan was staring at her hands, which were clenched on her lap. Booth watched her intently, looking for any sign of emotion, as she took the hot chocolate that the waitress had left.

"So... um..." Booth faltered for a conversation that would maybe break the silence that had fallen. "What have you been doing while I've been stuck under a sudden avalanche of paperwork?"

Brennan didn't look up when she spoke, instead staring into her hot chocolate. She had her hands wrapped around the mug, looking almost as if she was trying to replace the warmth of Booth's hands with a hot beverage. It wasn't working. "I've just been identifying remains. The usual." She spoke as few words as possible, in a quiet tone unusual for her. She was clearly thinking about something, but even with his years of experience and his knowledge of his partner - _his Bones_ - Booth was not able to tell what.

The waitress came over again, this time with the food. The partners looked up and thanked her, yet she still felt as if she was intruding on something.

As soon as she left, Booth ran his finger along Brennan's jaw. When he reached her chin, he gently tilted her head upwards, and locked eye contact with her. He murmured, "You're not sulking, are you, Temperance?" Her first name slipped out before he could stop it.

She looked up at him, holding his gaze. "No," she whispered, "Just thinking." She unconsciously reached up to brush Booth's hand away from her face, but faltered as he ran his fingers crossed her cheek in a gesture that caused her to gasp. Booth just smiled at her - his beautiful, independent Bones, acing like a school girl - and continued.

He quickly broke the contact, but Brennan's eyes were watching him with a look of innocence. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to whisper in her ear and to comfort her. He tried to stave off the feelings and looked down at his food. She slowly picked through hers, eating slowly, with an almost sad expression. It did nothing to help Booth's cause.

It took a good fifteen minutes of eating and awkwardly whispered words before either of them was ready to leave. They looked at each other and nodded, before both standing and paying so that they could leave.

Brennan walked out first, as Booth quickly followed. They took a few steps before Brennan stopped and said something that both startled and scared Booth.

"We need to talk." Nothing special or seemingly significant. Just four words that barely conveyed how she felt.

Booth stopped and stood within a foot of his partner. He sighed. "I'm sorry if what I did in there upset you." He gently ran his hand up her arm, causing her to shiver slightly, and not from the cold.

She looked up at him, eyes red - as if she were about to cry. "No, I'm sorry." Her voice trembled a little. "I didn't react rationally. I shouldn't have given you the cold elbow."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Booth couldn't help but smile as he corrected his partner's colloquialism. "It's cold shoulder, Bones," he murmured as he ran his fingers from her elbow to her shoulder. Before he could register what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around him and pulled him close, burying her face in his chest.

He pulled her tightly into a hug, running his fingers through her hair, letting her relax into his chest. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

She straightened a little, enough to look him in the eye, but not enough to force either of them to let go. Her ice-blue eyes locked on his chocolate-brown eyes, and before either of them could register what was happening, they had pressed their lips together in a kiss that had been coming for five long years.

He brushed his hand from her cheek and through her hair as she leaned a little more towards him, deepening the kiss. They curled into each other, trying to get closer to each other but still taking it slowly.

Their lips broke apart from lack of air, but they stayed close together, eyes boring into one another. Brennan leaned in and pressed her lips onto Booth's neck, kissing him softly. Booth hugged her closer and leaned in towards her ear, and whispered three words.

"I love you."

Brennan didn't respond, instead slowly pressing her lips to his, before pulling away with a look of surprise on her face. "Booth, it's starting to snow." She grinned and leaned in to steal another kiss, before taking Booth's hand and walking with him to the car.

They clambered inside, and looked at each other, sheltered from the snow. Their faces were a little red, and they wore identically flustered expressions.

"What now?" Brennan ached, taking Booth's hand and weaving her fingers through his.

"How about we go back to the Jeffersonian and see how long it takes the squints to figure this out?" Booth suggested, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Angela will know as soon as she sees us together," Brennan smiled in amusement at the image in her mind of her friend's reaction.

Booth didn't respond, but leaned over and pressed his lips to hers once again.


End file.
